


Three Random Words

by Ferith12



Category: DCU
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6973090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferith12/pseuds/Ferith12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I semi-randomly picked three words out of a rhyming dictionary and used them as inspiration for Batman (since it's me, mostly Dick Grayson) drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Focus: part of my partners ‘verse

He had to focus.That’s what Bruce said.When the thoughts get overwhelming, when the pain is too much, when you’re lost in the memories you can’t escape, the things you can’t control, try to focus, focus on the here and now, focus on the things you can control.

Trouble was, Dick had never really understood the concept of control.Control was never something he had wanted.Not something he needed.He didn’t want to control things, and as childish and selfish as it was, he wanted nothing more than to never have to control anything.To have someone else there to be in control.To simply fly free and know there would be hands to catch him.

But… he had to focus on something.

Some part of him knew that following Bruce’s advice on this sort of thing probably wasn’t the best idea. Bruce was such a mess. Such a painful, broken mess.And that was so beyond scary.Because Bruce’s parents had died forever ago, and he was still like this.How could Dick hope to ever be happy, be himself, again?

Somewhere along the line, Dick decided he could focus on Bruce.On Bruce’s pain and loneliness and need, instead of his own.Dick couldn’t control Bruce any more than Bruce could control Dick (no matter how hard he tried) but Dick could help him.Dick could be there for him and try to make him smile sometimes, and remind him he was never, ever alone.Not with Dick at his partner.

That helped.That helped a lot, to have that focus.Especially after they became Batman and Robin.Batman would attack, and Dick would jump in with his creepy, ventriloquist’s cackle, that wasn’t quite a real laugh, and they would fight the bad guys, helping people.Together.

And it wasn’t until long afterwards, when fake laughs were replaced by real ones, and grappling had become flying, and fighting had become dancing, that he realized: He had gotten what he wanted.Because every night he could fly free, without worrying about control, because he knew that Batman’s hands would be there to catch him.

The whole time he had been focussing on Bruce, making jokes, giving hugs, protecting his back, Bruce had been focusing on him, with a hand on his shoulder, and a small, small, approving smile, being there, with him and for him.

  


Trivial:

Damian didn’t understand why Grayson was wasting so much time on this. 

“Really,” he said, “I would not have told you if I knew you would insist upon celebrating. I am sure Batman has much more important things to spend his time on than this trivial matter.”

“Dami,” Grayson said, and it was almost startling, how his expression went from exuberant to serious in a split second, “Your birthday is hardly “trivial”.It marks the day you came into this world, which makes it important, because _you_ are important.Far more important than anything else I could be doing today.”

“Tt.I thought you were trying to teach me to be less “full of myself,’” Damian said, trying (and failing spectacularly) to ignore the foreign, warm, pleasant feeling Grayson’s words filled him with.

  


Torture:

_You can do this,_ he told himself, firmly. _You’re Dick Grayson, you’re_ Robin. _There’s only thirty more minutes left.You can do this._

He tried to focus on the passage in front of him and the multiple choice questions he was supposed to answer.Tried _not_ to think about flying or the fact that he had been stuck here, sitting, reading incredibly boring paragraphs _all morning._

He _hated_ standardized tests.


	2. Chapter 2

_Home_

When Dick was small, home was people.

Home was a small trailer that was always broken down at the worst possible moments.  Home was the Big Top, a tent that was like a palace.  Home was the trapeze, swing and fly.  Home was the aplause of hundreds of people in awe because they were the  _best_ _._

But home wasn't things.  Home was people.  Home was mom and dad and uncle Rick and Aunty and Johnny all crammed together in their little trailer, until they couldn't stand each other, but loved each other anyway.  It was Mr. Haley, his voice booming and jovial, the ruler of the Big Top who could make the whole world feel like an adventure. Home was flying because he knew he could trust his family to be his wings, home was the dance of the trapeze, the six of them swinging and catching and acting with one mind because they were all of one heart.  Home was the applause because the Graysons were the best.

When Dick was eight years old, home fell, and home left.

But.  Wayne Manner is big and strange and wonderful in a terrifying way.  But Dick's room is smallish and full of bright colors and it's home.

Because home is people, and Bruce is sad and intense and has no idea what he's doing, and when he looks at Dick he smiles, and he puts a hand on his shoulder and it's warm and safe.  And Alfred is stern and formal and is the best at jokes and he says "Master Dick" like he's precious and is always, always kind.

 And Dick is home.

 

_Precious_

Alfred watches the young master.  The boy with dark hair and blue eyes and a strangely solemn expression.  There's always something going on in that boy's head, he's far too intelligent for his own good.  The child's parents die and leave him broken, and Alfred is left as Bruce's guardian, wondering how he could possibly have been entrusted with something so precious. _  
_

 

_Incomparable_

Lots of people think that Dick Grayson is Bruce's favorite.  In fact, pretty much everyone except Dick thinks it.  And Bruce himself, of course.  There's plenty of reason for it of course.  Before Dick came along Bruce was alone.  He had Alfred of course, but Alfred was Alfred.  Dick Grayson was a light in Bruce's darkness.  He loved blindingly and unconditionally in a way that Bruce couldn't help but reciprocate.  And he grew up, which was harder than it should of been.  But in the end he grew up into a man who was so  _Good_ so kind and giving and fearless, And Bruce was indescribably proud of him.

But then came Jason.  Oh Jason.  Jason, who had been stepped on over and over again but refused to stop fighting.  Jason, with his unquenchable, irrational optimism, his unending commitment to giving people a better shot at life.  Jason who had been Bruce's son in ways that Dick never was, because Dick had already had a father.  Bruce had loved Jason with all his heart, and when he died it nearly broke him, and when he came back, vengeful and lost and so, so angry, Bruce still loved him.  He loved him so much that if love could kill, Bruce would be a dead man.

Then along came Tim.  Wide eyed, intelligent, determined Tim.  Tim who was so brilliant, but unsure, somehow both incredibly shy and a natural leader when called to be.  Tim who gave and gave and gave but wouldn't give even a fraction of an inch if he thought he was right and someone else was wrong.  Bruce loved Tim even when he thought Tim wasn't his to love.  Because he couldn't help himself.

And there was Cass.  His only daughter.  His beautiful strong, amazing girl.  He loved her uncomplicatedly, unabashedly, completely.  She loved and smiled.  She was far to good for him, but that was alright. 

Last of all was Damian.  His actual biological son.  The boy with far too much of his father in him.  He hadn't been broken so much as misformed.  But he was trying so, so hard.  It turned out, underneath all the murder, he really was a good kid, a great kid.  Damian tried so hard to make his father proud, and Bruce was proud, so very, very proud of who his son was, and who he would one day become.

Bruce does not have a favorite child.  They are incomparable.

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea to do this from CaraLee who is writing an amazing collection of drabbles that you should definitely read. 
> 
> I was going to do lots of them. I got to three and then... I'm just lazy. As of now, this is all I'm doing, but if you want more, you can send some words my way in the comments and I'll try to write more drabbles for them.


End file.
